© Copyright 2011
All work is property of Leah Crichton, any duplication or reproduction of all or part of the work without explicit permission by the author is illegal.

Tongue - Tied: (tung-tyed)

speechless or confused in expression, a form of shyness, embarrassment or astonishment

affected with tongue-tie

Vancouver was bigger than anything I’d ever seen in my life. Suffice it to say the entire town of Churchill would probably fit within the confines of a few city blocks. All of the houses and buildings were one of two extremes: run-down and decrepit, like their owners had stopped caring, or towering, surreal architecture straight from the pages of a magazine.

Trees lined the streets and suggested God had a fondness for different shades of green. The nicer homes boasted pristine manicured yards with little verandas, curvy paths, and tropical foliage reminiscent of an island paradise.

We drove a good twenty minutes or so outside the city before Luke pulled into the driveway of our new home. He rushed around the car to open the door for me, my crutches secured in his hands. Humbled, I accepted his assistance since there wasn’t much I could do by myself, and limped out. The house itself was massive and the surrounding land rolled into vast wilderness.

The exterior was white with pretty red shutters framing all of the windows. A red brick pathway lined with little lanterns wound up to the front door and branched out to the side and the back of the house. A creek, complete with a small bridge, cut through the landscape and provided undeniable charm. 

“Nice, huh?” Luke asked.

I surprised myself by admitting that it was.

Snickers heard my voice and burst from behind the house full throttle, his tail flying side to side like a propeller.  I froze and braced for him to knock me over.

“Whoa, boy!” Luke leaped in front me. “Sit!” Snickers followed his command and sat, his tongue hanging lopsided out of his mouth.

I patted his head gently. “Hey boy, did you miss me, buddy?” He licked my hand as if to acknowledge that yes, he had.

“Let’s go inside, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

The house was ancient and the décor inside reflected its age but in a surprisingly shabby-chic sort of way. The front was little more than a starting point for a staircase. To the left, French doors led into a large dining area, and beyond that an absurdly modern kitchen. A sitting area was off to the right and housed a warm fireplace with built in bookcases, complete with enough books for our own personal library. Luke probably thought he'd died and gone to Heaven.

Upstairs housed six massive bedrooms, three of which would eventually be for bed and breakfast guests. Each stair accommodated my crutches nicely and I made it to the top with relative ease.

The pride in Luke’s voice was unmistakable as he side-stepped the door to my bedroom. “Come and see this.”

When I got past him, I gasped. My mom said that when Luke was not at the hospital, he was here, in my room trying to make it perfect. It was.

There was no question the room was designed by someone who knew me. Everything in it was black, aqua or white.  A white comforter with black swirls sat atop a cherry wood bed. Aqua accent pieces were strategically placed throughout the room in the form of pillows, lamps, a cashmere throw, and an area rug. All the walls were painted my beloved blue-green except for the one opposite the bed, which had wallpaper similar to the pattern on the bedding.

An oversized desk housed my computer on the other side of the room. I walked over and ran my finger along the smooth edge of the wood. I noticed my word of the day calendar sat perched on one of the shelves; somehow it had been retrieved it from the wreckage.  I picked it up.  The blue card-stock was practically destroyed, some of the pages torn. The entire thing was covered in caked, dried dirt. I swallowed the lump in my throat and set it down.

“What do ya think, I.Q.?” Luke beamed with satisfaction.

“Oh Luke, it’s wonderful! This is an amazing gift.” I threw my arms around him, resting my weight on my good leg. 

“I’m glad you like it. You had me worried there.”

At some point my mom joined us. “Well honey, I suppose you should get settled. You’ve had a very big day.”

I nodded, kissed them both and closed the door after them, turning to the dresser drawers in search of pajamas. Actually getting them on required a great deal of exertion and when I achieved this pathetic little victory, I climbed into my feathery bed, feeling like I'd won the lottery. The small events of the day left me exhausted and it wasn't long before I fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

I don’t know why I thought being discharged from the hospital would signal the end of a long list of side effects but it didn't. My head felt like a construction crew had taken up residence inside it. After learning more about my extensive injuries, it was a small price to pay for being alive, but in the throes of a splitting migraine, I wasn't always so sure.

“Ugh!” I groaned and reached over to my bedside table to grab a small bottle of pills and a glass of water. I shoved the pills into my mouth, took a sip and swallowed, willing them to work.

A combination of reluctance and my current ineptness to do anything made getting out of bed a very slow process.

The good news was that it was Saturday, which meant I didn’t actually have to do anything. I stumbled out of my room, louder than I'd intended because Luke appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Mornin’ I.Q. Need a little help?”

I looked as if I'd given his question adequate consideration. “I was going to try and use the crutches as skis down the stairs but,” I said with a shrug, “suppose I'll let you help me instead.”

He bolted up the stairs, grabbed my crutches, and set them on the floor before picking me up like I was composed of fine bone china and carrying me to the bottom where he set me down.

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” 

My mom was in the kitchen making Belgian waffles. Her face brightened when she saw me. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Luke set a tall glass of orange juice on the table as I struggled to sit, realizing my current level of uselessness was going to really piss me off sooner rather than later.

Luke moved quickly to assist. “Here, let me help you.”

“No,” I held up my hand to stop him. “I need to learn how to do things for myself.”

He frowned.  “Okay, just be careful. I don’t want you to fall.”

“Good, we have something in common.” I pulled the chair out and set my crutches down while I used table as leverage. Luke, satisfied I wasn't going to break any bones, turned back to the fridge to get an assortment of fresh berries and whipped cream. 

“Listen, Ireland, I thought you might like to go out today.” My mom flipped the waffle maker over and opened it to reveal a perfect, fluffy waffle. She set it on a plate and handed it to Luke, who placed it in front of me. It was like an assembly line of deliciousness. The sugary sweet scent flowed to my nostrils and my stomach grumbled in response. Creating a pile of fruit and whipped cream on top of the waffle, I sat back to watch, fascinated by the cream disappearing into the little squares.

Since the accident, eating was on my Favorite-Things-To-Do List. Everything tasted so good after being subjected to Jell-O in its various forms and flavors. I shoved the morsel into my mouth and asked between bites, “Where do you wanna go?”

“Oh, I don’t know, just thought it might be good for you to get out, walk around a bit.  Maybe we could go shopping and get you some school clothes.”

“Sure. That sounds nice.”

She clasped her hands together under her chin. “We’re going to have fun.”

Her excitement bordered on ridiculous. I suppose having almost lost me was an awakening for both of us, and I should be just as grateful for the mother daughter time. After breakfast, my uselessness increased as I watched Luke and my mom clean up the kitchen because the most I could do was supervise.

Luke grabbed his book and planted a kiss on mom’s forehead. “Thanks for breakfast.” He passed me to go upstairs, but turned as if I was an afterthought. “Have fun, I.Q.”

I grinned and stated the totally obvious. “Um, it’s shopping. Shopping is always fun.”

We spent the morning in Vancouver, divesting stores of their contents. I stopped keeping a running tally because it was too much exercise for a tired and still damaged brain; besides, I didn't really want to know.

By early afternoon, my body was staging its own coup d’état. Shopping was a grueling exercise and I was in dire need of a break. “I think I need to sit down.”

“Of course, honey.” My mom scanned the area and pointed to a coffee shop with a small patio. “Listen, I’m going to take these bags to the car and I have one more stop I’d like to make. Will you be okay waiting there? I won’t be long.”

I should have been disgustingly full, too full to think of iced mochas and how much I loved them, but it didn't stop me from saying, “Yeah, no problem, I can wait. I’ll just get a drink and sit for a while. Take your time.”

Balancing on crutches and opening doors wasn’t easy.  I was trying to remain vertical and struggling with the handle when a deep voice came from behind and interrupted my concentration. Every hair on the back of my neck stood straight up in response. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” the voice said. “Can I get that for you?”

Instinct told me not to move, not to even breathe, but curiosity got the best of me and I turned to investigate the mysterious source of my goose-bumps. My cheeks grew hot when my eyes settled on the owner of the voice.

He was unusually tall, close to six foot one, maybe even six foot two. He was clad in dark, distressed blue jeans and a white t-shirt that clung to his skin in the humidity, showing off an impressive physique.

Dominant cheekbones contoured his face, which was framed by thick onyx hair tousled in that sexy, just got out of bed look.  He smiled and flashed his teeth, which were stark white in contrast to sun-kissed olive toned skin.  His eyes were striking, an icy mix of blue and green. It took only a moment of looking into them to decide they were the kind of eyes that held remarkable intensity, the kind you could get lost in, exactly as I was now.

“Are you talking to me?” I searched for the right words, any words because looking at him caused them to disappear.

He stepped closer and my mind begged me to step back but my feet were glued to the ground. “Do you see anyone else here?”

I kept my eyes fixed on my shoes. “No.”

He extended his arm across the door to push it open. “I must be talking to you then.”

Just put one foot in front of the other and move.  

“Thanks.” I hastily made my way through the entrance, which placed my body directly next to his. As I passed, impulse urged me to inhale, to find out if he smelled as good as he looked. He did, an alluring mix of vanilla beans and forest that I found myself trying to memorize in order to recall it later.

“Sure, no worries.” His voice was husky, and I watched the corner of his lip pull up into an amused, lopsided smile.

I hobbled up to the counter, ordered my iced mocha, and tried to forget that something far more delicious stood just a few feet away. Coffee in hand, I rested my crutches on one side and made my way to the patio, claiming the only table with a newspaper on it and hoping it would provide an adequate distraction from the gorgeous boy who had come in when I had.

I sat, sipped my drink, and miraculously managed not to stare. I wanted to; God knew it took every ounce of willpower I possessed to keep my gaze fixed on the paper instead of on his face.  Even so I found myself stealing quick glances at him from over the top of my paper, just to study him some more. That lasted until he stared back. Our eyes met and he winked. For the first time since the accident I wished the universe would swallow me whole.

My mom returned, mercifully sparing me from further embarrassment. “Ready?”

He watched the exchange between us as I scrambled to stand. “Yep, ready.” We walked back to the car and every step we took away from him, I found I could breathe a little easier. “Hey, Mom?”

“What, dear?”

“I had a great time today.”

“Me too, Ireland. We should try to do stuff like this more often.”